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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055213">Winchester</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Easy_2013/pseuds/Easy_2013'>Easy_2013</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Winchester [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Easy_2013/pseuds/Easy_2013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Winchester [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prologue<br/>
“The war is over.” A voice said over the intercom, “All soldiers are to return to civilian life.” D-552 packed his bags, his service was no longer needed. He was raised in the military; his earliest memories were of him and his squad mates doing push-ups in the barracks. He’s still in the same barracks, but all the bunks that used to be filled is now empty.  Since the war is over, like all useless equipment, he was to be disposed of, he thought initially. Although, he felt no anger, in fact, nothing at all. He swiftly headed to the exit of the camp. Lieutenant Avery pulled him aside, and said, “D, it really isn’t your fault. The war is over, and you need to live your own life. I’ve arranged a place for you to stay, and somewhere for you to learn what it takes to be in this brand-new world.” “Yes sir.” D-552 replied, as he gave his final salute, “Before you go,” the lieutenant said, “Take this, it will have everything you need.” “Thank you, sir.” D-552 replied as he took the envelope from the lieutenant’s hands.<br/>
He boarded the bus, and took out the envelope. In it contained his new keys, some spending money, and a note. He took it out, and read it silently “Thank you for your service, D-552. In this envelope you would find the items you would need to be on your own. If you need anything, you know how to contact me. –Lieutenant Avery. P.S. Don’t forget to go to school.” The original thoughts of being cast aside suddenly stopped making sense. He was conflicted. He never really thought of himself being any more than a weapon for the war, and like everything, once it is useless, it is to be throw away. Why isn’t he being treated any the same? He streams of thought was suddenly interrupted as the bus reached his stop. He jumped out of it, and entered what would be his new home. It was a plain apartment room situated on the second floor, with a single bed in the corner, a desk with a pen and some paper, a bathroom, and a fridge. At night, he took the time to write the Lieutenant a message. </p><p>Lieutenant Avery.<br/>
I have safely arrived at my new station; my next mission is going to this school you talked to me about. I will complete said mission, no matter whatever it takes. Over and out.<br/>
D-552. </p><p>	The next day swiftly rolled around, as he quickly got dressed, and headed to school. He walked up to the teacher, and said, “D-552 reporting for duty sir, am I correct in assuming that you are the Commanding Officer of this battalion?” “You’re out of the military son, there are no C.O.s here. I’m Mr. Jackson, why don’t you grab a seat over there.” “Yes sir” D-552 said, as he walked over. “Second thing, please, think of a name for yourself. D-552 just isn’t really a name.” It was the first time he had been around kids his age that were not soldiers, or in active training. He thought it was weird that all those kids did was sit in their chairs, and listen to this adult, who called himself Mr. Jackson. But over the lecture, all he could think about was what did he want his name to be. “Declan.” He muttered to himself, “Declan it is.”<br/>
As he left the school by bus, staring out the window, as he saw the busy streets, people chattering, items being bought and sold at the stalls, as the leaves fall off the trees. It was fall; the lieutenant used to talk about how he would play in the piles of leaves as a kid. As he looked, he thought to himself, “All those people have names, but I was a weapon, I had always been treated as a weapon all my life, just like all the other children that came out of the incubator tubes, given just a letter and a number as their designation.” “Maybe,” he thought, “In this world, people saw me more as a person than merely as a tool.” The bus soon arrived at his living stop, as he hopped off the bus, and unlocked the door. It was getting late, so without a word, he got ready for sleep. Staring at the celling, he thought to himself, “Declan. I like that name.”<br/>
As he drifted soon to sleep, as the real world faded away, he found himself in the trenches, while machine gun bullets whizzed above his head, and motor shells impacted all around him. In his hands were his rifle, and beside him, his best friend, F-502. The commander yelled at the top of his lungs, “Charge!” as the soldiers all climbed out of their trenches, running into no man’s land. But Declan froze, he found himself unable to move. He saw F-502 climb out of the trenches, and immediately be mowed down with machine gun fire. He just stood there, completely in shock. Chills ran down his spine as he snapped back into reality. He quickly got up from his bed, drenched in sweat. “What was that?” he thought, “That day, the day that F-502 died, I was there! I climbed out of the trenches with him! Why did I freeze just then? Was it… fear?” he felt his body heat up, he had been trained to operate in freezing cold or scorching heat, but even that was too much for him. He walked to the AC and turned it on. He sat in his bed, and said, “What was I afraid of? Death? But why would I be afraid of death? I was just a weapon in that situation! I was expendable! Why was I afraid of dying?” He sat there, unable to figure out why. He walked to his desk, and wrote the lieutenant a letter. </p><p>Lieutenant Avery.<br/>
I had a strange dream today. Remember that day when F-502 died? I charged up the trenches with him, just to have to see him get killed by the machine guns. But this time, I didn’t. He stilled charged up the trenches all the same. But I froze there, I felt fear. I don’t know why I was afraid, but I was.<br/>
Declan-552</p><p>	Declan’s first school days passed relatively uneventfully. He tried to hide his past as a soldier, but like all things, the truth got out. “Killer! Monster! Murderer!” the other children would call him, as he would sit on the playground completely alone, “This is what I get, from fighting in the war,” he muttered to himself, “I felt pain so you could enjoy life? I feel pain and yet you, not knowing the bliss you live in, mock me for the price I had to pay for you to live this life?” Declan slowly stood up. His heart pounding. He remembered feeling the same way back in the way, but this time it’s not completely identical. He felt rage instead of the usual anticipation of what’s next to come, after being ordered to do something. He walked up to the ringleader, grabbed him by the collar, and with an uppercut and a swift crunching noise, Declan cracked the boy’s jaw. The teachers rushed to him, and the authorities were called. Declan was escorted onto the wagon, and transported to a gray building that he had never seen before. </p><p>	Getting off the wagon, he was escorted by two armored men into the lobby. The massive wooden door slowly opened, revealing a damp stone passageway. As he entered with the guards, his footsteps echoed around him. As he was booked, he was asked his name. “Declan-552.” He replied. The man behind the counter scoffed, “552. Aren’t you one of those kids who fought in the war? Declan… what a stupid name. I think you should just stick with what you’ve been given, D-552!” the man laughed, as Declan stared at him, eyes almost burning. He was escorted to a cold room with one stone slab and a toilet. “Enjoy your stay, D-552.” The guard said as he tossed Declan a loaf of bread, and slammed the door. Declan laid silently on the slab, and stared at the dark celling. As he stared, he slowly drifted into unconsciousness…<br/>
He was woken up by the guard loudly banging on the door, he said, “Declan, you got a visitor.” He quickly got up and was escorted to the visitation chamber. Sitting on the other side was the Lieutenant. “So, I see that you are stuck in a pinch.” The lieutenant smiled. “I’ve been worse.” Declan said as he let out a. small chuckle. “So, what has gotten you into this hellhole?” Declan sighed, and said, “I broke a kid’s jaw for calling me a murderer.” The Lieutenant let out a long laugh, “And nobody told you to do that?” “No, I actually did it for myself. I felt, angry. Angry that I did so much for him, and yet he still despised me. I lost control there, I’m sorry sir.” The lieutenant stood up and smiled, “You are adjusting faster than I excepted you to.” He grabbed his coat as he winked to the boy. “By the way, you’re free to go, and don’t call me sir. I’m no longer military.”<br/>
Declan rose from the visitation chamber, as his belongings were brought to him. He boarded the bus, as the bumpy cobble roads brought him to the dusty apartment where he lived. Sitting on the bus, he was confused on what the former lieutenant meant by “adjusting faster than he anticipated” The bus stopped in front of his apartment. He sluggishly walked to the door and opened it. One the floor there was an envelope that has been pass through the crevice between the floor and the door. “To Declan” the envelope read. The envelope had a wax seal with an unfamiliar signet of a balance scale with a gavel on one side and a magnifying glass on the other, with the magnifying glass weighing slightly heavier.  Declan carefully opened the letter, keeping the seal in one piece as he placed it on his shelf. That was the first letter he ever received, and he thought he would treasure it. He opened the letter. </p><p>March 4th, 0 A.II.G.W. ¹<br/>
Declan<br/>
I’m glad to hear you are doing fine! Adjusting to a normal life must be hard for you. Well, I’ll get straight to business. After quitting the military, I began work as a private investigator 2. I am also in need of someone to help me with the cases. Think you can handle that? Meet me at 3125 Baker Street at 6:60 ² sharp.<br/>
Avery.<br/>
P.S. Don’t sir me, I work for a living. </p><p>Declan put down the letter, and he let out a small chuckle. “detective work, huh? I can handle that if I do what he tells me.”<br/>
Time flies, as 6:60 rolls around as Declan was sitting in the café, and Avery walks up. “You interested, kid?” Avery asks with his usual snarky attitude. “Yes, Avery?” Declan’s spoke with an uncertain voice. “Avery’s fine, call me whatever you want to, but just not sir. I don’t have that title anymore. So, are you sure you’re in? Work is tough, it’s dangerous. We work outside the law when investigating, and the law won’t protect us.” “I’m ready to beg-” Said Declan enthusiastically. “Not so fast, kiddo,” the blonde man interjected as he handed Avery a heavy-duty book. “We private investigators are also lawyers, and you need to know the law to defend your client. Read this tonight, I expect you to be fluent in law by next month. Also, you don’t have to go to school anymore, I wrote you an excuse. But do expect weekly tests on the law!” Avery stood up, and said waved his hand. “Good luck, kid.” Declan looked at the huge book in his hands, and walked back home. </p><p> </p><p>1)	This fictional setting’s system of recording years are based on wars, which refreshes after the end of every war. A.II.G.W. stands for “After second Great War”, which was the war that Declan fought in.<br/>
2) 2)	This world runs on a   12-hour system, each hour having 120 minutes.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Old Man, the Cabin and the Safe (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 1: The Old fisherman, the siblings, and the safe. <br/>A small beachside cabin sits quietly next to the thrashing waves. A small wooden fishing boat is flipped upside down on the sand, with mold growing between the wooden boards. An old fisherman sits on the floor of his house in front of an open safe. His gaunt body hunched forward, as he scribbled messily on a sheet of paper. <br/>This will be my last will. <br/>My legs are weak, and my body is frail. So it is possible that I will succumb to sickness, or my limbs will give out at a critical moment, and I will die because of an accident. But I do want ot have some fun with the situation. If I die of either old age or sickness, the money and items in the safe and everything I own will go to my son, Jonathan Winston. If I die of physical injuries, the money and items in the safe and everything I own will go to my daughter, Jonah Winston. <br/>I wish to be sent out on my old fishing boat, with all the fish in the sea. <br/>Signed: George Fernandia Winston. </p><p>	The postman gently knocked on Declan’s door. Declan opened his eyes hazily. “It’s only 3:00, why the hell do people wake up this early.” Adjusting to civilian life, Declan has already lost some of his military discipline. He was never a morning person, and without a commander yelling at him to get up every day, he took the liberties of sleeping longer. A letter slipped under the door, and it beared the same insignia as last time. Declan sluggishly got up from his twin sized bed, as he put on some shoes and walked to the door. He picked up the letter, and ripped the envelope, this time not caring to preserve the seal, since he already got one if its kind, which is framed, and on display on his shelf. He walked over to his desk, and sat down. “This is going to be another one of those weekly tests.” He ripped open the letter. To his surprise, it didn’t start with a question. <br/>He pulled the rest of the sheet out, and the letter said. <br/>Declan<br/>You’ve surprised me! You exceeded every single of my expectations, at least academically. But, do you have what it takes to be a private investigator?  Head down to the office. We are expecting a client. <br/>--Avery<br/>P.S. I have somethings for you. Remember to look both ways when crossing the street. I don’t want you to be hit by a horse. <br/>	Declan smiled a little, as he heard a second knock on the door. Declan rushed there, and opened the door. The postman was standing there, and handed him a small package. Declan quickly thanked the postman, and walked over to his desk with the package. Without hesitation, he opened it. Inside was a key, with an address inscribed on it. Declan could only guess that it was the key to the office. He tore more into the package. A leather holster with a small piece of metal inside could also be found. He took it out of the box, and put it on his belt. Digging deeper, he found a contraption that looks like a pistol, but when the trigger is pulled, he got no reaction. He looked on the barrel, and the word “Arbitrator model 552 custom. Property of Declan” was carved in the side. “552 huh.” Declan scoffed, as he put it in the holster. He looked at the key, and boarded the appropriate bus to his destination. What he saw before him wasn’t the exact image he had in mind. Instead, a narrow alleyway lead to a double door. Above the door had the same insignia as the ones on the letter. “This must be the place.” Declan thought to himself, and approached the door. Suddenly, a robotic voice said, “State your identity and business.” Decan was taken back by the sudden voice, and said, “I’m Declan, and I am supposed to meet a client here?” “What is your last name?” Asked the voice. “I don’t have one, but the number assigned to me in the military was 552?” “Answer accepted; voice conformation completed. Please place your sidearm and your key for identity conformation.” A pillar dropped from the ceiling, with two slots in the it. Declan did what he was told, and placed his sidearm and key in the slots. After a moment, the machine ejected both pieces, and said, “Confirmation complete. Welcome, Investigator Acolyte Declan.” Declan went and picked up his key. But when he touched the pistol, he heard a voice. “Arbitrator Model 552 now activated. Please do not resist the following process.” Small, flexible tubes then suddenly perturbed from the handle, their sharp points punctured Declan’s skin, digging deep inside. Declan yelped, and let go of the handle, but the tubes stayed connected. But to Declan’s surprise, there was no pain. After what seemed like an eternality, the voice said, “implantation complete. Arbitrator model 552 is now ready to fire.” He saw the main body of the gun light up. He put his finger on the trigger, and the body starts to emit a light hum, as the tubes. Started to glow a. bright yellow color. He immediately too his finger off the trigger, and instinctively put it in the holster. The barrel and the metal made a clicking sound, as the tubes retracted into the grip, but leaving their tips imbedded in Declan’s flesh. Declan tried to hide his shock as he walked towards the double door, pushing it open. Inside was a mahogany desk loose papers everywhere, a pen stand shaped like a balancing scale, holding a pen in each of the plates. There were two chairs in-front of the desk, and the emblem of the agency was carved on the back wall. The blonde man sat on a chair behind the desk, his head on the desk, resting. Declan walked over, and tapped the man on his shoulder. “Avery, I’m here.” The man jolts awake, and exclaimed, “Damn, you scared the hell out of me.” Declan smiled, and Avery looked at Declan’s forearm, and said, “So. You already went past the implantation process.” Declan nodded, and Avery went on. “Your sidearm, is part of the arbitrator series is a prototype of personal-defense weapons that were in development in the Great War. And you, and many of the children in the war were to serve as the first users of these weapons. Hell, I was chosen too.” Declan sat down, and looked at Avery, his eyes widened. “Don’t think of this weapon as a firearm, but more as a conduit. The tubes that dug into your arm drains your stamina via the ports it implanted. The function of the weapon is to focus your own energy into a concentrated beam.” Avery rolled up his sleeves, and pulled out a similar contraption from his holster. The moment he touched the handle, similar tubes sprung out and connected to the ports on his wrist. “This is mine.” Avery said, “Once you grab the handle, the only way to have the tubes release is to get it back to its holster. It prevents you from being disarmed.” Declan looked at Avery’s sidearm. “Eviscerator Model 851, Property of Lieutenant Avery” Declan looked up, and said, “Why does yours say Eviscerator, but mine says Arbitrator?” “That’s because the type of our internal stamina and energy are different, and therefore need different types of mechanisms to harness and concentrate. You probably realized your beam has a bright yellow color. But mine,” Avery put his finger inside the trigger guard, as the weapons starts whirling, and a crimson color started to emit from the tubes and the main body, “My energy manifests as a crimson beam, therefore I have to use the Eviscerator class.” He took his finger off the trigger, as the whirling gradually stopped, and the crimson light disappeared from the weapon. “Now, the longer you have your finger on the trigger, the more stamina and energy it will collect from your body. And in turn, have a more powerful shot. The shot’s power variates from giving someone a tap, knocking someone out, completely killing your target, or even destroying vehicles. It just depends on how long you charge it for, and how much energy your body has. Now, if you decide to charge the weapon, but not fire it and take your finger off the trigger, the stamina in the chamber would go back to your body, so there’s no loss.” Avery smiled, and put his weapon back in its holster. The gun clicked back into its place, and the tubes retracted. “Every one of these weapons are different, and custom made for one person. You cannot use mine, and I can’t use yours. The fact that the model number of your gun matches your military designation number is actually intentional. The military had it custom built for you, and they would give it to you when you are ready. But since the great war is over, every single one of these weapons that were made went to the soldier’s former commanding officers. And I think you are ready for this weapon.” Avery sat back down, “I believe we are about to meet our new client.” The mechanical that Declan had heard moments before started saying, “You have one visitor. Visitor has no private investigator identification. Possible client.” “Let em in.” Avery said, as the doors swung open. “You couldn’t have done that for me when I came in?” Declan said sarcastically. “You had an investigator ID, and the system needs to know who you are, so you can enter the shop whenever you wish.” Declan let out a small chuckle. A woman dressed in a suit walked in. “So, I assume you need our help?” Avery said to the man, “Well, mind telling us your name?” “Jorah Winston.” The woman said quietly, “And I do need your help.” “Well, cut the chit chat, let’s get down to the chase.” Avery said, as he fixed his hair, in an effort to look professional. “Well, father recently died, and the authorities said the reason of death was that he fell down a flight of stairs and cracked his skull against the floor. But the issue here, is his will.” Jonah pulled out a piece of paper out of her bag, and handed it to Avery. It was a old piece of paper, with wrinkles that come to paper with humidity and age. “But do we need to talk with him around?” as she looked at Declan. “He’s my acolyte, so it is critical that he knows what’s going on as well.” The woman signed, “Well, I was hoping that the fewer that know the story, the better, but I guess the cat has to come out of the bag at some point.” Avery looked at the paper, and read it silently as Declan watched on. After a moment, the blonde man raised his head. “So, what’s the deal?” “Usually, it wouldn’t be a huge issue. I had no connections with my father, who left me when I was 5, due to gambling issues. Old men fall down the stairs and crack their skulls all the time. But the issue is that my brother, Jonathan is suspecting me of murdering our father, in order to get the items in the safe.” “I see, I see, tricky old geezer.” said Avery, “But this is a private investigation company. And our services don’t come cheap.” “I know,” said the woman. “That’s why I’m giving you everything in the safe, if you can prove my innocence.” ‘That sounds, oddly suspicious. Isn’t the entire reason you are coming to us in the first place is to prove that you are innocent and claim your inheritance?” “You are mistaken, investigator. The old man’s only valuable possession is a rusty key and a notebook written in some sort of code. Unlike my brother, I have no time, patience or ability to decrypt it myself and find out where it leads. My brother had wanted that for as long as I could remember. Me and my brother lived in separate houses, me with my mother and Jonathan with the old man. When we had visits, he’d tell me about how beautiful the things written in the notebook looked, even though he did not understand them. He soon chased his dreams and became an archeologist. So those things are right up his alley. He...” Avery cut her off. “Ma’am, we don’t need more exposition-dumping. I’m pretty sure Declan over there’s got enough info to go on this investigation.” Declan raised his head. “I never agreed to the…” “That’s enough info for us. Consider this job taken. Just, tell us where the house is.” Jonah stood up, handed Avery a slim piece of paper, and walked out the door. Avery looked at the paper. “Declan, pack all you need. We would be out of town for a few weeks. Be fast, we ride in a few hours”<br/>Declan hurried home, and threw everything he needed inside his suitcase. Blankets? Check. His law books? Check. His sidearm? Already holstered beside him. Pen and ink? Check. Knife? Check. But he felt something is missing, as he glanced over at the framed wax seal. “I feel like I should convert it into something I can wear. But, now is not the time. Duty calls.” As he sprinted out the door, hastily locking the door behind him. </p><p>When he got back to the office, Avery was already sitting in the horse-drawn bus with a massive backpack. “What’s for the big backpack for?” Declan asked. “Well we won’t be staying at a five-star resort during the investigation, and we certainly won’t be eating fine cuisine. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring a tent, or food, because I only packed mine.” “Fuck,” Declan muttered, “Well, guess I’d have to scavenge for my own. It’s not like I didn’t do that back in that frozen hellhole, eating raw rabbits and sleeping in mud filled foxholes. This would be a paradise compared to that.” “Well, at least your military training did have some use in this line at work.” Avery said sarcastically. “Shut up.” Declan dismissed his jabs. “Alright. Let’s get it moving.” Avery yelled at the driver, as the bus slowly but surely started moving forwards. </p><p>The sun was just about to set, as the light spread across the landscape, and like a blanket, caressing all it touches. The orange tinge reflecting off the lake, as it glistens. The bus passes the palm trees, and soon the gate. Declan stared out the window, as the city passes from his view, and is gradually replaced by the vastness of the countryside, as Declan soon drift off to sleep. A few more hours passed, as the night continued to fall, Declan was woken by the driver. He jolted awake, “How long was I asleep?” “Not so long pal.” Said Avery as he sat by a firepit, with a pan in his hand. “Just a few hours.” The driver chimed in, “It’s getting pretty dark for us to see the road ahead. We rest for tonight, and ride at the break of dawn.” Declan sighed, “What are you cooking?” “Some salted pork and fire cakes.” “You underprepared too?” said Declan. “Yea, the store that sold hardtack ran out of it when I went to buy some. So, I just got some flour and salted pork instead.” “Maybe you should have gotten them earlier, Avery.” Declan smirked. “Well, it’s better than nothing.” Avery chuckled, “Well, you better go find some food.” Declan waved and took off. Avery quickly finished up his meal, and scooped some brine from the box of salt pork, and put it in the pan over the fire. By the time Declan came back, the water was gone, and all that was left was salt crystals. “What did you get?” Avery said. “A snake, it will fill me up for tonight.” Declan sat down next to the fireplace, and gutted the snake. He put the snake on a wooden spit he fashioned, and roasted the reptile over the fire. Avery gestured him to the pan. “You want some of this? It helps improve the taste.” “Thanks Avery. But how did you get salt out here? I don’t think you brought salt all the way out here.” “Well, that salt pork box is filled with salty water, that I used to make those. Plus, salt can be used to disinfect wounds, if you manage to get injured.” “Thanks.” Said Declan, as he quickly finished his meal. </p><p>Declan slowly opened his eyes, as the sun emerged from the horizon. The light briefly blinding him, as he stood up. “The others are still asleep.” He whispered quietly to himself. “better wake them up.” He clapped loudly, and said, “Rise and shine, sleepy heads!” The tents opened, and the two men exited. They quickly packed up their things, and got on the bus. The horses seem revitalized as well, eager and energetic. </p><p>The rest of the trip was monotonous, with the grassy fields as far as the eye could see. A single dirt path in between. As the day soon turned into the afternoon, and the grass turned into the rocky shore, a single lonely house sat on the sands. Vines and vegetation covered the roof of the house. Declan and Avery jumped out of the bus with their baggage, and Avery paid the driver, who thanked him, and disappeared into the horizon. “We will start our investigation tomorrow. It’s been a long trip. Find some food and get some rest. I’ll get the fire prepped.” Declan nodded, and walked to the ocean. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for, a stingray. With a swift motion, he stabbed it with his knife. He walked back to the camp, seeing Avery already at the campsite, cooking up his meal. “Impressive catch.” Said the man, looking at the stingray. “You probably won’t need to find food for the entire trip. You probably should smoke it overnight.” Declan nodded, as he cut off a piece of the stingray, and put it over the fire. He then cut the stingray into small pieces, and using branches, he built a small rack on top of the fire. The stingray pieces then went on the rack, as the smoke rose, the firelight illuminating the dark beach. The men sat and ate, and soon, were off to sleep. </p><p>The sun rose, as Declan was woken up by Avery. His meat has been smoked, and he wasted no time in packing them up. “You ready for your first day on the job?” Avery asked. “Yes, I believe I am.” He responded calmly. “A fitting response for a battle-hardened veteran.” Avery thought.</p>
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